Beyond the Horizon: One Sky, One Destiny
by Jack E
Summary: When darkness finds a way beyond its bounds to worlds not its own, two worlds unite for the fate of all worlds and the destruction of an evil too potent for one. There are many worlds, but they all share the same sky—one sky, one destiny… and one ring.


**Synopsis**: In the wanderings of space and time countless worlds exist, connected by obscured paths, divided by unseen walls and balanced by acts among galaxies where nothing happens without reason. The barriers are set, the routes hidden. But when darkness finds a way beyond its bounds to worlds not its own, the balance is broken. Fate's future may rest in the hands of hearts that did not realize that they could sail beyond the horizon of their boundless seas and in the bare footsteps of one smaller than his heart would tell. Two worlds unite for the fate of all worlds and the destruction of an evil too potent for one. There are many worlds, but they all share the same sky—one sky, one destiny… and one ring.

**Description**: A Lord of the Rings/Pirates of the Caribbean crossover with a very different flavor from all ones previous. The goal in mind isn't '_it would be funny if_...' or putting two Orlando Bloom characters, Johnny Depp and Viggo Mortensen into one place for your special droolsville convenience. It's to tell a good story, and the hope is that it'll lean toward something of an epic nature. (But I don't consider myself and epic so much as a simple writer, so we'll see.) I'll be willing myself to bring up my writing several notches. In fact, the Pirates characters may not join in with the Fellowship for much of tale. Rather, they will do what needs to be done in order to fulfill their quests of defeating Sauron and his darkness.

I don't want to reveal too much of it, because part of the fun is revealing it as it is written. But essentially a link will be created between the two worlds of PotC and LotR. Most 'links' tend to be _'and suddenly everything started swirling and poof! he didn't know where he was_' and the explanation for the warp is just _'he didn't know... blah, blah, blah_.' Uh-uh. This link has an explanation and full logic behind its back that takes aspects from the two worlds (things like the Rings of Power and the Aztec stone chest) and ties them together in a comprehensible and hopefully reasonable manner. The PotC characters will be taking their own path, separate from the Fellowship at many times. The characters will have means by wish to cross back and forth between the Caribbean and Middle-earth, for example, so there will be sections in which they are in Port Royal or Tortuga while Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli are confronting Théoden in Helm's Deep or something of the like.

It will take place as an AU, right after the happenings in CotBP.

There won't really be a ton of true romance in this. The romance will be more implied and hinted at than anything, and this is because for many of the characters, the fact that the people and places and things that they love are at stake is what drives them. What they are fighting for gives them their resolve to defeat Sauron. Anyway. Pairings are:

Aragorn/Arwen  
Faramir/Éowyn  
Jack/Pearl  
Samwise/Rosie  
Will/Elizabeth

**Pairings:** I think that's it... that's a lot of characters to think of, you know. There is some Norrington still loving Elizabeth while she is aware but still sees him as nothing more than a good friend. I find their relationship with this bump in its path potential for a really magnificent friendly bond in the end and good story material. But no romance will happen between the two. That's Will/Elizabeth territory. Sorry... Don't worry Norry fans, he'll have a good part to play. The character's just too good to leave in the dust. I may give him a lass. Maybe. I may also follow the example of the Peter Jackson films with Éowyn and Aragorn… but I'm debating that. In the end Aragorn and Arwen would end up together regardless of the decision, however.

_

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**Disclaimer**: Pirates of the Caribbean, _and recognizable names of the characters, events, items and places therein, are the property of Disney Enterprises, Inc. and Jerry Bruckheimer Films. _The Lord of the Rings,_ and the names of the characters, events, items and places therein, are trademarks of The Saul Zaentz Company d/b/a Tolkien Enterprises under license to New Line Productions, Inc. No profit is made from this ... work... and no infringement intended. 

"… _We pray for our sorrows to end, and hope that our hearts will blend. Now I will step forward to realize this wish. And who knows: Starting a new journey may not be so hard…or maybe it has already begun. There are many worlds, but they all share the same sky—one sky, one destiny_." Kingdom Hearts II

_Beyond the Horizon: One Sky, One Destiny  
_'The White Eye'

It may well have been widely known that he was situated there, unmoving save for what movement was brought upon him by forces more resilient than the might of his own will. And yet words were not whispered of his presence above the smithy. They only came to light as they stirred in the minds of those who cast dark and wary eyes upon him in nothing more than a flicker to and from, fearful and suspicious. No, words were not whispered of his presence above the smithy… so much as what his presence purported, concerning the persons who passed through the door beneath his feet. For none knew where he had come from nor why there he stood with such dark foreboding in his onyx gaze above the door of that particular smithy, discomfortingly invisible under the cloak of night and visually magnetic after the manner of an endless void by day, though none the less disquieting.

Some stated that it was a strange stroke of luck —he had come from the mainlands on a ship as a stowaway of sorts and managed to lose himself in the winding streets of the settlement till he grew tired and sought a place to rest out of the way of prying eyes and harm. Others renounced such 'foolery,' claiming that the fact that such a queer stranger had ended up on the doorstep of that smithy was far too serendipitous to be considered coincidence in the whole. It was an omen, 'twas said, and a foul one at that. One of death, destruction, despair…Despite the disputes, however, it was grievously agreed that, whether by providence, coincidence or something else entirely, there was a foul note on the wind since the coming of this strange visitor and, even considering the reputation of the boy in question, it spoke of nothing but ill news on his behalf.

After all, it was known that ill news, as ill a guest as it was, was still far more well-acquainted with the young smith than was natural or safe.

The shadows were long and the air viscous with the cool shroud of the night still clinging to the world in vain defiance of the breaking silver sunrise in the east, however futile it would appear the morning fought. The sea delicately cupped her hands and blew over their salt covered plains a soft breeze that drifted into the sleepy port-town in the heart of the Caribbean body. Ships docked in the harbor rocked to the lazy rhythm of their queen, creaking and soughing in their dreams. The trees swayed and sighed at the soft touch of the wind now rolling over their bucolic boughs, then meandering through the empty streets of the slumbering city–across a cobbled bridge and its giggling brook, down a wide lane, through a small alleyway and up a sturdy wall of the plainest waddle and daub to touch a wooden sign and bid it creak as it moved in a gentle sway, disturbing the winged black sheen that perched on its iron gaff.

Then silence as the wind's sigh passed on to stir whatever else it could before it died.

Feathers of robust ebony rustled and then lay still as the patter of cobbled lanes under foot echoed down the way. The Raven nipped open one eye from under the fold of its wing to gaze, attentive in spite of the hour, upon the approaching figure of a young man not too far in the distance. The boy approached at what seemed to the bird to be a irritatingly slow pace as he shook his wings with impatience. He could not stay for much longer, and yet things had yet to be set in motion.

A leather bag wound over the young man's shoulder and round his neck clattered and clanked softly as he came, causing the bird to flutter its wings in order to satisfy the wave of restless impatience festering in his blood. If smithy work was to happen yet again, then little could be done to progress the work. And yet… The bird cocked its head softly in curious observation as if to question the youth over the dark change in his mood, though he knew that the young man could not yet see him so clearly. His hands, buried loosely in their brethren pockets, enhanced the rigid frustrated hold of his shoulders. His walk was heavy yet quick and, despite the earliness of the morn, the boy already seemed eager to be rid of the day's work and keen to return to a state of peace in some quietude. The air was crisp and new but did not bite, fluctuating with his cadence in preparing to stir the steady heartfelt beat of the town from its still-deep sleep and slow pulse. Beneath that tempo hummed the promise that today was to be a frivolous day riddled with activity to the commandeering of all leisure—but it held potential to be good…for some. And for that, low hearts of those some could lift their chins and grin a little in gratitude at the ease up.

It seemed that the young man had thought of a similar tone as he reached the quarter before the sign and looked up with stirring eyes at the black bird's motionless stance, a thoughtful smirk upon his lips though it was admittedly somewhat forced.

"Perhaps my dark brooding is a reflection of a childish whim," a gentle voice was his, spoken with an elegance unbefitting to his lowly class and birth. "And perhaps the whispers and looks will choose be a little kinder today—I needn't be so bleak." The smirk stretched into a dank and pensive smile before his dark eyes plunged into depths of moods darker still, pulling the corners of his lips down with them into an accusatory frown as he pierced the bird with his unhappy gaze. "And yet… perhaps I am right in my thinking that so long as you are here, things will be bleak without my helping."

As it narrowed an eye with a calculating air the flight-blessed creature shifted its gripping talons in discomfort that found its source from a spring other than the physical exhaustion of holding his one pose for the duration of days that passed without end. Creature of another sort he may have been, but the Raven did not stand deaf nor ignorant to the languages of the people dwelling in the land. It heard, listened, hearkened to words of the goings-on from the mouths of those below. And the Raven watched, swiftly learning of the strange young man over an even stranger sea. Thus it feared, if only for a moment, at what could be running behind the eyes of this human—whether it would prompt him to concoct a plan to be rid of him in some manner… Then the tension receded as his stare was cooled, dulled and lowered with a fierce sough.

"What am I saying? I've made myself foul enough repute without your company…" He produced a hand with a small ring of keys entangled in the clutch of tanned fingers, as he cleared his throat with a grunt and ran a swift hand over his eyes. Picking out the correct key on the band, he stepped towards the door beneath the Raven's feet and set about unlocking the pad that held the door fastened firmly in his absence. But the routine swift clicks of the youth efficiently proceeding with inserting the key into the lock and disengaging its inner workings in a command to open were supplanted with aggravated clacks of the key refusing to enter its small hole and the lock rebelling against its maker.

A growl of anger emitted from below and a bang with the shock of a gunshot fired through the still morning air as the boy struck the door with his fist, followed by a strong kick and a second pound. A breath of stillness hung in the air with a gentle breeze of wind sweeping though the grey-shade court yard, the bird shuffling its feet in order to bend its head and get a better view of the happenings below. With a soft thud, the boy turned his back on the door and leant against its rough wooden surface, a strangled sound catching in his throat before it could truly take its leave. Then the soft whisper and crackle of the fabric of his coat chafing against the rough, porous surface of the wooden door as he let his knees buckle slowly, gently sliding into a seated position with his knees drawn upright. His forearm coming to rest upon its corresponding knee, his face masked itself beneath the shadow of his hand as he heaved a third sigh, and fell silent.

Minutes passed by and, still and silent, the young man remained against the door beneath the sign of the smithy, swallowing down nothing every so often. The echo of a cock's cry muttered from somewhere within the depths of the town for the second time since the sun's annunciation of her coming and the Raven cocked its head to a different angle to relieve its neck of the ache that began to well in its joints. The sun began to bleed white gold far-high into the eastern sky, and a steady beam of its fire crept over the treetops facing the salty bay to fall just short of the young man's dirty shoes.

The bird shifted its footing once more as the young man idly set a dark eye on the shining ray with a turn of his heavily held head. The dust in the air from the dirt road below danced on the gently suspended air, creating specks of reflected sunshine every so often with a gentle glimmer and spinning about in unusually elegant patterns not unlike what fairies may have been imagined to sway. Work-worn fingers lifted with a slow hand and softly penetrated the walls of the golden beam, painting four long dark stripes across the surface of the ground with a fifth elongated stub from the intrusion of his thumb. With a light motion of his hand, the earth powder glittered and swirled in fleeting madness before it slowly decelerated and lazily began to hover on the air once more.

After the gesture had been repeated a few times, he paused, his hand stayed before him stretched out to disturb the still currents one time more. He splayed his fingers, his eyes traveling along the skin across the back of his hand before turning it around slowly and letting the sun fall upon the white evidence of a past angry cut in the process of repair. It seemed to command his thoughts for a moment, for he became still even in breath as his hand remained standing.

He kept it before his face, before nodding his head to himself with a subtle grunt. And, dropping his hand, he stood, brushing off his clothes and making the bag about his shoulder clang and clatter again in doing so before once more approaching the door. With less hastiness, he inserted the key into its hole and turned it. With a soft click, the lock let loose. Removing it from its hole and pocketing it, he took hold of the door latch, lifted it and proceeded into his shop.

The noise in the harbor began to buzz with activity and life, voices flying across the water and down the city lanes in laughs, shouts, simple conversations. Footsteps on the wooden docks sounded, the talk of the waves against sand and hull murmured, bells, whistles… But the customary ringings of steel and roars of fire never ensued from the small shop. Nor the gratings of metal on the grindstone. Nor the hiss of angry heated steel being submerged in the quenching waters for the sake of its transformation. Simply hush.

As the morning waned and the sun grew hot, the people awoke and came out from inside their homes to crowd the streets. While some approached the quiet shop, none did hesitate to take a change of mind upon the seeing of the large black crow perched on the wooden sign with one side pressed to the shadows. The whispers trickled through the streets and the dark looks scowled without restraint. No one came to the door of the forge.

Noon passed; the sun began to pick her way down from the sky's peak with still no sound from within the eschewed smithy, and the Raven ruffled its feathers and shook its head as it began to wonder. He was to keep an eye on the goings-on of the dark-haired youth, knowing where he was at all times and remembering all things that showed sign of movement towards the beginning, things amiss from what they should be. The shop should have been speaking of work. But it stood mute. Something was amiss.

Shifting its hold on the gaff beneath its feet, the bird picked up its wings and puffed up its breast, flapping gradually stronger until he was lifted from his perch and taken in the arms of the wind. The whispers spiked in a sharp crescendo as he drifted across the building's face and round a corner—away from his seat for the first time since his arrival. He spied what he sought: a window thrown open for the breeze to come and go as she pleased. With wings spread wide he glided for the bare sill, flapping his wings when he came close enough to slow and grasp its wood for a landing.

The sun was scorching on his dark back and the small street beneath bustling with people and their clamor, but within the forge was dark, cool and still as a tomb, despite the occasional thin shafts of light that wormed their ways through cracks and tiny holes in the rafters. It appeared entirely vacant, apart from the restless ass confined to its corner by the harness enclosing its form. In a soft flap the bird took off for the rafters, landing on a wooden beam of its choosing with the gentle click of its talons touching its surface. Cocking its head to the side, the Raven eyed carefully the structure of things below before shifting along the beam and examining the next few square feet beneath.

The young man sat at his anvil, his legs stretched out unused before him and his shoulders slumped as he turned one of his many hammers over idly in his hands, thinking, it would seem. A single thin ray of light intruded through the ceiling and lay on the anvils surface where a pair of tongs lay prostrate, as if trying to tell him something he could not understand. The coals in the forge remained cold and grey and the ingots of iron untouched in a stack on the threshold. The dust in the air hardly moved as it drifted on currents that sat motionless despite the open window. Hardly anything seemed to stir or make a sound—as if a small part of the world had been frozen in time or slowed to a speed nigh unto it. So the bird ruffled its feathers and adjusted the dispersing of its weight to settle down for a long period of time and keep watch.

The latch of the door clicked, the sound snapping a wave of brief energy through the forge that somehow missed the lad. The dust stirred, the donkey turned its head towards the entrance and the Raven jolted within itself, but the young smith stayed still, seemingly oblivious to the sound as the door slowly opened. Light and din from without crept into the forge for an instant as a figure stepped into the darkness and then shut it back out with a muted clack.

The boy stirred, sitting up slightly straighter and setting his hammer beside the tongs on his anvil with another sigh. "I must apologize, stranger," he spoke with out standing or facing the person in question. "You may request of me what you wish, but I shall most likely be unable to give you sufficient service until tomorrow."

"You needn't light your forge to appease me, Mister Turner."

The boy stiffened at the gentle voice, holding then releasing a breath of some unidentifiable mood. "What are you doing here?"

The sound of a few light footsteps on stone kept the silence at bay until a brief pause and the muffled steps of the young woman's shoes on the dirt floor of the forge supplanted it, and the young man, one Mister Turner, glanced at her from over his shoulder. Slowly, even reluctantly, it seemed, he turned around and stood, extending his hand for hers with a flavorless smile. She stopped her approach at the edge of his reach and frowned delicately, before casting her eyes to the ground with a suppressed sigh.

"Don't do that," was her whisper.

His feigned grin slipped away and his brow piqued in a hybrid of curiosity, confusion and hurt. "Do what?"

She pinned him with a staid look from beneath thick eyelashes. "Pretend that you're alright." The tension in his brow shifted and transformed into a softly clenched jaw as his hand descended slowly to its place at his side. "… I came to check up on you."

He ran idle fingers over the cool surface of his anvil, as he turned away from her with an air of stubbornness. "It wasn't necessary."

"Are you hungry?"

"…No."

She paused for a moment, fingers fiddling idly with each other before speaking again, softly. "Estrella told me about what's been happening."

His brow pinched and the shape of his adam's apple betrayed an emotional swallow as he turned away from her with an air of stubbornness, though towards what could not be said. "And what of it?"

"I needed to see you—to find out if it was true for myself." One of her hands came to touch some invisible thing against her chest. "I…I had hoped it to be petty gossip."

"Perhaps." He ran idle fingers over the cool surface of his anvil, his voice gaining a little more strength as he spoke, though there was no evident change in mood. "What have you heard?"

There was a pause as the woman's brow contorted itself in her seeking for words and her hand came to clasp its other before her, brushing her expensive skirts where they lay. She took a breath. "She…she told me that business had been suffering of late." He turned his head and gave her a gaze that stated plainly he knew acknowledged her carefully chosen understatement, the promise of a twinkle in his eyes and the beginnings of a smirk upon his mouth. Some tension or apprehension seemed to be lifted from her shoulders at the maneuver and a ghost of a smile threatened to pull at her lips. "And…and that you had approached my father about…"

Her words faded into nothing and her eyes fell to the ground once more at the wash of somber light that came over his eyes before he turned his head away from her once more. The low-hearted air bore down upon her and a subtle slump came to rest in her shoulders as his reaction seemed to confirm the suppositions of her mind. Her forehead quivered in indecision between relaxation and tension as her hands unclasped and her supple lips pressed against each other in an understated manifestation of inner turmoil and anguish. Turner ceased to move, his hand lightly resting upon the anvil and his eyes cast away from it at the ground. The Raven adjusted the cock of its head.

Tucking her lips inward for moistening, she inhaled. "Why?"

The question seemed vague and without relation to anything said, but the young man seemed to understand as he pressed his eyes shut in a fight against something inside, his jaw and hands clenching tightly, before he spoke in a stretched voice, "Because of what I am," she took a sharp breath and he paused to swallow; silence began to seep in, copious and suffocating, "…and how much less it means for you."

"No!" The alarmed sternness in her voice caused him to turn in her direction slightly. Her brow was pinched and her voices wrought with a whirlwind of emotions—the shadows of the forge and angle of sight from the rafters made her eyes difficult see. She briskly walked up to him, placing firm hands on his biceps and pegging him with the unmoving gaze of her eyes. "You cannot believe that!"

His expression turned grave and bitter with a dark shadow overcoming his eyes. "Why not? You know it is the truth, we both know it. And no amount of love can change that, Elizabeth. I am below you—below what you deserve."

Elizabeth's mouth opened in outrage and she looked upon his face without speech for a few moments before releasing a miniscule humorless laugh of disbelief. "Perhaps to some, William Turner, but most certainly not to me!" Will made a noise of disagreement and shook her hands from his shoulders, making to turn his back to her again. Her brow lowered in anger and she grasped the sleeve of his shirt in a hard grip, bringing him back to face her with a wrench. "Since when is my father and his Society the better judge of my heart than my own self, Will?"

William's countenance took its turn for anger and he leveled a glare upon the golden-haired beauty. "This has nothing to do with the heart, Elizabeth."

She clenched her jaw with defiance, an air of amazement in her voice, "In all my life I never would have dreamed that Will Turner would let himself fall cold because of a—"

"_Do _not_ question my love for you!_" The Raven visibly jolted as the shout rang in the corners of the smithy and hung in the rafters like a cloud belatedly attempting to find a way out. Elizabeth fell into stunned silence, breathing ceased with her hands reflexively pressed against his breast from when Will had grabbed her shoulders in the action of his bellow. He panted softly, his brow contorted in anger, his jaw tight and his eyes flashing. Then his expression fell, torn with a mournful sorrow, as his grip on her lessened and the tension she held in her body fell away slowly. "Don't," his voice caught in his throat as he spoke, hardly a whisper, and a hand came to stroke her cheek tenderly with the back of its fingers. "If it were all only a matter of love I could bid the sun to rise and set when I wished without the slightest impediment. Never question that, Elizabeth."

Her brow contorted in confusion, she shook her head slightly. "Then why—?"

"Because, 'Beth," he returned gently with a sigh. His lips parted to continue to speak but he choked on them and was forced to swallow them up. He pursed his lips and contorted his brow in an instant of contemplation before reaching down and taking her lovely hands into the cradle of his own, he smiled sadly. "...Simply, Elizabeth, your father doesn't deem me worthy to keep you as my wife." He raised each of her hands to his lips and kissed them individually, with light chastity.

Her face pinched and she opened her mouth with words forming and fading on her tongue. Elizabeth whispered, "I do."

It seemed he wished to argue, but no words could nor would come to mind. Time passed in which he seemed to be searching her expression for something lost that promised to return along the horizon. The chatter outside the scene seemed strangely muted and the light ever-so-slightly kinder as he found it and held in his gaze. Finally, he reached for her, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her softly on the lips. Their faces lingered in each other's presence once the kiss was broken, sharing breath and thought as they leaned upon each other's foreheads and dreamt.

"I wish… that I could feel the hope you make within you, as vibrantly as it seems you feel it, Elizabeth. Nevertheless I find myself lacking…I desire, so deeply, to give you the world and yet all I have to offer is a relative shack for a home and pennies for wealth. I know our love, and I can't deny it. But my vision is plagued with a small home and bare table… and somehow that's all I can see."

"Because you look in the wrong direction," she assured gently, reaching up to comb a wayward strand of dark hair from his brow.

The Raven flapped its wings restlessly, and the boy froze, turning his eyes up to the rafters where the dark bird perched, then frowned. The girl gave him a questioning look, before following his gaze to also view the dark winged creature, and she gave a small gasp. The bird shifted its feet, uncomfortable with the attention.

"He's been sitting atop the sign for weeks now," Will spoke plainly, a slightly unhappy tone in his voice and eyes. "He's part of the cause of the poor come about in business." She turned questioning eyes to him. "The people believe him to be an omen—a very sore one—and that those fool enough to pass through my doors must surely die or be damned." He returned her gaze for a moment a chill light brimming his eyes with anxiety. "You should not have come here."

She muttered almost as if to herself, one deaf to his final words, as she turned her face back towards the bird with a penetrating gaze. The Raven ruffled its feathers and began to shuffle away from the couple, its head turned to the side so as to keep one eye on them as it moved.

Will's brows creased as his turn to question came and he began to note the peculiar change in her complexion. "What's strange?"

"Will… I know not of how much importance it truly is, but I find…" Elizabeth frowned and contorted her brow in thought as her eyes observed the bird with diligence. "For the past two weeks, at least, I've also had a bird of that color and make dwelling in the trees about my home. He sits near my window when I am inside and then follows me, flying from tree to tree as I walk about the gardens or make for the gate."

The angle it which he turned his head cast strange shadows and obscure his face, but his voice was grim. "That is a queer happenstance." He turned and walked along the rafter the Raven perched upon, his hands roaming to his pockets and his eyes kept on the black creature. The bird held its head up high, ready to make a sudden if necessary. Will turned his eyes back on Elizabeth. "Who else knows?"

"I don't know," she replied, dropping her stare and engaging it with the scar on her hand. "No one, I should think."

The eyes of the young man glistened with the light sharp enough to penetrate the structure as he gazed at the bird, and the bird fixed his eyes upon his in questionable return. Magnetic, they stood transfixed and unblinking in the depths of each other's sight, not sure why they looked so intently, nor for what reason, if any, the exchange should be broken. Yet as they read the surfaces to each other's minds and observed the covers to their inner records, they boy's stern expression gradually began to fall and his lips parted, brows eased in something… softer, but unreadable.

"Will?"

He blinked as his eyes fell, his brows returning to their pique but with a new air of perplexity and contemplation. The young woman's hand came to touch his cheek softly just he raised his gaze to meet her own, hesitantly. His hand lightly took hold of her wrist, and he bent his head, the shadows stretching over the plains and valleys of his face. "Something's changed."

The bird stiffened, its feathers ruffled and still. Elizabeth too was still before the sound of her lips parting to utter gently made way for her speech.

"What?"

He removed her hand from his face, shifting his hold to clasp her fingers gently. But the surface of his brow darkened in confusion, though shadows veiled his eyes. "I don't know... I don't know when or where or how, but something's…" His words trickled away as some form of shame or its kin began to creep into his voice. His hands loosed their hold of hers and then fell lax all together. "You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have come."

That was when the wind stirred, and in its cradle was borne the sound of a distant crowing. The bird felt itself stiffen without direct command, its feathers ruffling as they stood on end in his tense state his attention swiftly taken in its whole away from the couple. The sign! Now, surely, it all was bound to begin! The click and scratch of his talons on the surface of the wood were soon followed by the rush of wind under the flap of his wings as he shuffled across the rafters and then glided out the window.

He bypassed the wooden sign of the smithy, flapping briskly with his legs pulled securely to his body as he gained height and momentum, the rich green of the island's growth passing fleeting below him and the large rectangular shape of the Governor's manor swiftly growing in his view. The breeze was fresh from the sea, run light hands over his midnight feathers as he slipped through the sky. Presently he passed over the house, the governor just stepping into his gilded carriage before the roof supplanted the view, the bird's shadow growing as he began to slow and lower himself. The branches of a particularly large tree extended high for the sun here, and it was here that the Raven chose to land, flapping its wings carefully just beforehand to slow and make a gentler landing.

His view of the sea here was blocked entirely by the lush leaves and thick branches of the tropical tree. With a heat half-twisted in vexation he gave his wings several small beats as he hopped between branches before, among the strange patterns of light and shadow cast among the canopy, a mass of black caught its eye, standing beside an opening in the wall of green. With word, or vocal sound of any kind, the Raven took a place alongside his ally and placed his gaze at the blue of the sea with a searching eye. The bustle of the harbor to their backs, the sea was mostly clear of human presence, save for a small schooner cruising out of their view for Fort Charles and what the bird recognized with a trill of success in its bosom to be a galleon, black as ebony from hull to canvas. The motion had come—and never with a more perfect timing.

Exchanging swift glances with his associate, the Raven cocked his head to the other side and situated a red eye set among a patch of snow-white feathers on the black ship with a crimson gleam.

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**Author's Note: **For those reading my other fic, I apologize for this surprise. It turns out that keeping this idea down (and some poems) was getting in the way of my writing and I need to get it out in order to keep going. I will do my best to get a new chapter of that one out as soon as possible, but it Jack's giving me some attitude... A hint about where that one is going to go: think myths and legends. I passively mentioned it in a previous (and one of my least favorites) chapter, see if you can guess. Anyway... ta, namárië and any other farewell that you can think of relating to these two worlds. I hope to see you soon with something worth reading. 

Yours,  
Jack E.


End file.
